


Light of my Life

by angrythingstarlight



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrythingstarlight/pseuds/angrythingstarlight
Summary: “ Light of my life! I’m not gonna hurt you. You didn’t let me finish my sentence. I said I’m not gonna hurt ya.” Jack Torrance.  You give Bucky a second chance, deciding a new start is what you both need to make your marriage work. He's been offered a new position at the Overlook. What happens when your sweet husband changes? Can you make it out in time?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. A Fresh Start

“Please”

Who knew one simple word could break your heart. It lingered in your ear as the conversation continued around you. Tumbling around in your head as the lawyers went over the last details. The pens scritching on the papers that would make everything final. The ink bleeding through the paper as your lawyer furiously scribbles out a demand from the other side. The red splotch on the table shiny, you swipe your finger across it, focusing on how it seeps into the lines on the pad of your fingertip. Desperately trying to block out the man across from you. 

“Please, sweetheart”. 

You look up, your breath hitching in your chest. His crystal blue eyes rimmed with the same maroon staining your finger. The soft brown hair that you love to comb your fingers through is tangled, roughly pushed back into a messy ponytail. His palms flat on the table, the fingernails chewed off, his arm reflecting the harsh fluorescent light from the ceiling. 

“Please”. 

His lips moving slowly as the word falls out. Those lips that ended up attached to your skin whenever he was close enough. The lips you kissed in the morning to wake him after a long night. His sorrowful eyes pleading with you, when he opens his mouth again, you put your hand up. His black henley stretching across his chest as he slouches back. Your chest aching as you watch his lips twist as he blinks, a shimmer of moisture in his eyes. 

\- once signed the divorce will be final”. 

You turn towards your lawyer, an older sharp-faced woman who thought it was ‘wonderful to take on an Avenger’. She didn’t know you had heard her little quip, you kept her because of her reputation. So far, she lived up to it, not that it took much work, he gave into your every demand. Even the ones you thought he would fight, hoping he would give you a reason to relieve some of the guilt. The ache in your chest becomes a vise, worse than the day you left. 

You haven’t seen him in weeks, hadn’t heard his voice in just as long. He respected your wishes and didn't contact you. It took everything in you to not run back home, he would have taken you back, he always did. You flit another glance at him, and it pains you to see those sweet eyes dazed as he looks at the papers before him, the way his hand trembles when he reaches for the pen. 

Your resolve breaks. 

“Can I have a minute with Bucky”. Your lawyer turns to you, shaking her head. “I need to speak with him before I can sign these”. You state firmly, keeping your eyes on him. 

A pause as the room stills. “We can type up the changes while they talk” His lawyer offers as he gathers the papers strewn across the conference table. The obnoxious sigh comes from yours as she pushes her chair back, the loud scraping of the metal against the floor the only sound until the door closes. The click seemingly snapping Bucky out of his daze. 

Taking a shuddering breath, you bite down on your bottom lip pulling it into your mouth. His gaze following you, frowning as you began to chew it on. “Y/N, I thought you stopped doing that,” he says softly, making you laugh as you release it. Your tongue flitting over the dents left by your teeth. 

“I-” He stops speaking when you stand up. Walking around the conference table, your heels clicking on the floor as you approach him. When you stand beside him, you can see him holding his breath, you place your hand on his shoulder, lightly as if he would break. He rubs his face against your hand, his scruff scraping softly against your skin. 

He slouches again when you remove your hand, deflating without your touch. Hopping on the table, your legs dangling beside him as you smooth out your pleated black skirt. You take a deep breath, aware his eyes are watching your chest rise and fall.

“Bucky, I miss you… I still love you”. You look at the buttons on his shirt as you gather the courage to say your next words.

“I don’t want this, you know”. Your confession burns as it leaves your mouth. The taste of regret bitter, harsh. 

His hands clench and unclench several times as he struggles to speak. “Then, why” He spits out, his head dropping back. 

“I love James Buchanan Barnes, but I can’t be married to an avenger anymore”. You shrug, ignoring the shards of glass twisting into your heart. “After what happened-”

“I’m sorry, I tried-” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. You don't need to see the skin to know its already raw, cerise.

You put your hand on the arm, ruefully remarking, “I thought you stopped doing that”. You were the only one who knew of his nervous tic. Remembering the nights you would turn in bed, the back of his neck inflamed, tender when you touched. Having to apply creams during the night, manipulating his hair to hide it during the day. 

It had taken months of you encouraging, supporting him to get him to stop, you still remember that day you made him wear a high bun, telling him you wanted to show off his hard work. You shake away the thoughts of how he must have slept without you, the pain and guilt sickening you. 

His sheepish grin as he moves his hand down pricks at your heart. You keep your hand on top of his, his skin soft beneath yours. You weave your fingers through his large rough ones. 

Moments pass as you study him, taking in everything you’ve missed. He waits patiently until a tear rolls down your face collecting under your chin. He kisses the back of your hand before pulling you down to his lap. 

“Bucky, don’t”.You weakly protest even as you instinctively turn your face up as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

His lips soft against your, moving back and forth lightly, teasing until you lean in, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth tugging, tracing your tongue along with it. Letting go, you attack his mouth, sighing as his tongue invades your mouth, dominating yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. Time seems to stop yet passes too quickly before you move away, panting into his shoulder. 

“I quit” 

The words bring your head up, brow furrowing as your eyes search his face. “You quit what?” you question as you tighten your grasp. 

“I quit the avengers the day you sent the papers”. His voice cracks on the last word, making you look down with shame.

His hand grips your chin, bringing your face closer to his.His eyes penetrate yours as he cautiously smiles. “I talked with Fury and Steve, if there is some end of the world Thanos level threat, I will go back but otherwise I’m done”. 

“Now I’m still going to work with them”. You raise your brows, he taps your lips, “As a trainer for new recruits

“I don’t know what to say” you shake your head, stunned, so sure that he would always pick them over you. He always picked them over you, even after-

He pleads, “We can start over, fresh in a new town”. As he looks at you, he needs you to say yes. He’s willing to do whatever it takes, he needs you. He can’t bear to let you go again, he won't survive losing you. Not again. 

“Where?” 

Hope unfurls in his chest, if you’re asking questions then he has a chance. He’s been practicing for this. Saying a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, he needs this to work. 

“The training facility is going to be outside of New York, I offered to help get it ready before it officially opens in January”. 

He places his forehead against yours, his words warm, minty as you breathe him in, “I want you to go with me, for the first couple of weeks it will just be the two of us, a chance to reconnect and be together again” 

Closing your eyes, you think about how you first met, that horrible first date, the even worse second date that made you fall in love with him. the mornings spent in the kitchen, the afternoons on the couch. The way he held you at night when your anxiety took over.The same way he’s holding you now. 

When you left, the pain had been indescribable, crushing. Back in his arms, could you really do it again, when he had made so many sacrifices when he finally put you first. It had taken everything to go the first time, your reserves were depleted. 

“I’ll go” You utter out loud. His smile mending your heart as the fog surrounding you lifts for the first time in weeks. 

He grabs the back of your head, pulling you in, kissing you until you forget where you are. His warm lips slated against yours. Your hands move to his hair as you moan into his mouth, his hand rubbing your back. 

“What the hell”. The slamming of a door startling you apart.

Looking over your shoulder, you see your lawyer gaping at you. “Y/N, what are you doing”, she screeches, clutching the papers you would never sign. 

Guess she’s not taking on an Avenger after all. 

Standing up, you wink at Bucky, his large hand engulfing yours as he smirks at your lawyer. “Its Mrs. Barnes and we’re leaving”. 

You squeeze his hand as he leads you past your spluttering lawyer. “Don’t worry you’ll still get paid”. 

“So where are we going?,” You ask as the elevator doors close, leaning on your husband as the numbers count down to one. 

“Its called Overlook”. 

. ---

He takes you back home, the ride quiet, comfortable, he keeps a hand on your thigh, his heated frequent glances making your face burn with anticipation. The feel of his hand sliding up and down your bare skin under your skirt making you wet. You hid your grin from his knowing smile when your clench your thighs. 

When he pulls up to the driveway, his mood changes, worry radiating off of him as he stares at the entrance. Bucky sighs, hoping you’ll forgive him when you see what he’s done. 

He was so elated to have you back, that he forget about what he left behind the brick walls of your home. He quickly parks, jogging around to open the car door for you. He smells the sweet scent of your shampoo as you walk beside. 

He hesitates at the door so long, you were about to ask him if there was something wrong with the lock. He looks at you, muttering “I’m sorry” as you step over the threshold. You almost cry as you look around, hand over your mouth. 

Your pristine little home is destroyed, holes mar the cream colored walls, every piece furniture in the living room broken, overturned. Shattered dishes on the floor, the takeout containers overflowing in the kitchen, the stench of rotting food worsening as you get closer. 

The thought of your sweet Bucky living like this breaks your heart. 

“Oh, Bucky”. You whisper as you rub your eyes. Turning you see him looking down, his shoulder slumped. Hating that you are the reason he keeps looking like that. You walk over, until your feet are between his, pressing your breasts into his firm chest. 

Kissing his scruffy chin, you whisper “I’m not mad, honey”.

His confused look makes you smile softly as you explain, I’m sorry, I should have talked with you first”. You gesture around your home, “This is on me too”.

He smiles down at you as you wrap your arms around his neck, squealing when his hands move to your ass lifting you up.

He slams you against a wall, gasping at the impact, the remaining picture frames rattle as you pull on his shirt, he leans back pulling it off. Before you can run your hands down his chiseled chest, he’s ripped your shirt in half, the material flung over his shoulder. 

Your bra pushed up as his mouth finds your nipple sucking as you scratch his scalp. the sensations streaking down to your throbbing cunt as his fingers twist the other nipple. When as he lightly bites down, you arch into his mouth. Begging as his warm mouth molds over your breast “Please Bucky, it been too long”. 

And it has, your vibrators and hands could never bring your pleasure the way he can. 

Reaching down to bunch your skirt around waist as you feel him push your panties to the side. Your hands touch every inch of skin you can find as you kiss his neck, the memory of him nothing compared to the real thing. Your fingers finding all the scars you mapped out years ago. Each one a different story that you coaxed out of him over time. 

His finger slides up your center making you whimper when he presses on your clit before sliding back down. “Always so wet for me doll” he groans in your ear, jostling you as he unbuckles his pants, letting them fall to his feet.

“I can’t wait any longer, need to be inside you” he grunts in your ear as you pull his hair. His sudden thrust as he fully sheaths himself into your drenched core making you cry out. You walls spasm around him, a burning sensation flitting through you as you welcome him into your body. 

Sobbing as he rocks into you, gentle thrusts that rapidly speed up. One arm wrapped around his neck, the feel of his warm chest sliding against your sensitive nipples enhancing your pleasure. His hash grunts echoing in the hallway. “So fuckin tight for me, doll, I missed you so much”. He groans as he adjusts his hips. 

His cock gliding against your sweet spot, over and over as you wantonly moan. Pressing your face into his neck as you rake your nails down his back. Each delicious, agonizing push of his hips bringing you closer to your climax. 

Faster than you expected you reached your high screaming his name into his skin. Riding out your orgasm until he follows behind you, his hips snapping against yours as he fills you with his hot cum, the warmth coating your walls as you greedily clench around him.

“Well that was fast” you breathily laugh as you push his hair back. 

“Not my fault”, He chuckles as he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, “you’re tighter than my hand” 

Widening your eyes, whispering “Which one?”. 

His growl makes you squeal as he carts you over his shoulder hauling you upstairs. You see the trail of destruction continues along the hallway, bracing yourself as he opens the bedroom door. He gently sets you down, half-heartedly smiling as his hand goes to this neck, your frown stopping him. 

Tears fall as you see your bedroom intact, your towel where you left it on the floor, your perfumes on the dresser, the closet door open, all the empty hangers pushed back. Closing your eyes when you see the goodbye letter on the pillow, your pillow, your side of the bed untouched. You rush to the letter ripping it into pieces before tossing it into the bathroom trash. 

You put your hands on the sink as you roll your shoulders. Looking in the mirror as he approaches, you shake your head, “I’m so sorry”. 

He kisses the top of your head.

“It's in the past”, he murmurs 

You lean back, closing your eyes as you surrender to the intimate comfort that he brings you. He watches you in the mirror, your face blurring.

“All in the past, sweetheart”.


	2. Light of My Life: Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not what they seem at the new Overlook Training facility.

The few days are a whirl of packing, canceling leases, and goodbyes as you prepare for the move. The hardest part was watching him say goodbye to Sam and Steve. You let him speak with them in private, watching from the car as you pick a thread from the edge of your skirt. The discussion appears heated, Bucky shaking his head repeatedly as Steve yells. Stopping when Sam puts his hand on his shoulder. More talking and then hugs as you pull several fine threads out of your skirt

Soon, he’s back in the car, driving away from the compound. His jaw clenched as he grips the steering wheel. The soft whine of the metal under his hand as he turns onto the exit.

“Are you alright?” you ask as you stroke his soft brown hair. It had taken a few hours for you get to it back to how you liked. He shrugs, his face relaxing as he glances at you.

“I will be”. His smile widens when you mirror it, twirling a piece of hair around your finger tugging for a minute before letting go when he relaxes.

You turn on the radio, reclining the seat back, and drift off to sleep.

“Sweetheart”

You feel a gentle shake on your shoulder, waking you up as you blink at the blinding light. Stretching in the seat, you gasp at the large facility before you. His laugh rings in your ears as you stumble out of the car like a baby deer, taking in the impressive building and the land around it.

Bucky takes your hand, guiding you around the outside, fat orange fish swims in the pond in front of the building, you squeeze his arm when you see the bench in front of it, thinking that it will be the perfect place to write when the weather is warmer.

You gape at expansive hedge maze off to the side of the building.He shrugs when you ask about, telling you it was already here when Stark purchased the land, he promises to show you it later. The landscape immaculate, trees line the front yard providing shade over the front porch. The porch winds around the building, a swing to the left of the door.

The inside of the house is massive, modern not unlike the compound, with a quaint old fashion twist to the decoration. The first floor will house the training rooms, while the second will have offices, the remaining three floors will have rooms for the agents while you and Bucky have the entire top floor to yourselves.

The elevator to your floor requires his print to open, you try your hand, tiling your head when it doesn’t open for you. Your heart drops when he quietly explains that Stark didn’t think that you would actually go, so he did not program your information. When you see that too familiar sadness creep in his eyes, you push down your own hurt and you distract him with a kiss. The rest of the unpacking goes smoothly as he insists on doing all the hard labor while you order dinner and unpack the boxes.

That night, you’re bouncing on the oversized bed when he saunters out the bathroom. He leans against the doorway, his arms folded, a towel around his waist, water beading off his chest. You continue jumping as you openly ogle him, pulling your shirt over your head, holding your breasts as you flop on the bed. Giggling when he falls on you, the giggles meld into moans as he kisses down your stomach, settling himself between your legs.

The next morning, he works on setting up the training rooms while you figure out the large kitchen. The hotel-sized stove is too complicated for your tastes, clearly meant for preparing large meals. You manage to figure out how to work the burners, making a light lunch. You walk around the first floor calling out his name as you navigate the hallways. Your bare feet silent on the cold hardwood floors as you hold the round plates in your hands.

You’re getting louder, your words echoing down the hall when he creeps out of the doors behind you. He follows you, smirking as you continue to call his name. When you reach the end of the hallway, you turn shrieking when you see him. He catches the plates before they hit the ground, snickering as you hold your chest, “Sweetheart, did you forget everything I taught you?”. His snickers bloom into full-body laughter when you pout. You eat lunch on the swing, the cool air nipping at your arms which is the only reason why you cuddle with him, you tell him as he smirks at you.

The next week passes quietly. A simple routine is established, wake up, make love, he works, you write, lunch, explore, make love, he finishes work and you sleep on his chest. You never talk about before, not when he’s so happy now. Not when you finally have the man you married.

A quiet, simple routine.

One night you as you sit behind him on the bed, the light from the lamp casting shadows on the wall, the light scent of vanilla in the air from the candle flickering on the dresser. He rubs your calf as you comb his hair, “I could get used to this, honey”. His little moans as you scratch his scalp make you bite your lip, “I wish it could always be us two”.

His eyes darken as you speak, “I hate that we’re going to have to go back to the real world soon”.

“Me too, sweetheart”. He looks at your reflection in the window, your face distorting as you pull his hair back. He can’t lose you again. The words echoing in his head as his dread unfurls in his chest. He won’t lose you again.

Bucky sits in the third training room, the music playing as he looks up. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to block out the noises. They’re getting louder, more persistent. “Please stop”, he whispers. “Leave us alone”. He covers his ears, rocking back and forth as it becomes deafening until it all stops. He puts his hands down, flinching when he hears one clear voice.

She’s going to leave you Bucky. You’ll die alone here.

You’re walking down a hallway, book in hand as you look for the library, when he stomps past you, his broad shoulder brushing against yours causing you to stumble. “Bucky, Bucky” you call out, bemused as he disappears around a corner.

That night the tv drones low in the background, you’re watching the snow drift down outside of the window. “What happened today?,” you ask as you lay across his firm chest, playing with his fingers. “You ran into me and kept going”.

“Must have been distracted”, he murmurs, kissing your head, “I didn’t hurt you did I?”.

“No of course not” You kiss him goodnight before turning to your side. You curl up against the pillow as you fall asleep. He doesn’t move, his eyes on the back of your head.

Why did you upset her Bucky? Remember what happened last time? She’s going to leave you. You’ll be all alone here. How long could she love a monster like you?

He places his hand on your arm, stroking the soft skin, his eyes unblinking afraid you’ll vanish if he does. He remains that way until the next morning, getting up when you start to stir. He’s gone before you open your eyes.

Your quiet simple routine feels off.

He spends longer in the training rooms, he locks the doors now, explaining that he doesn’t want you to get hurt. There’s an underlying curtness to his words, sometimes its passes so quickly you wonder if you’re just imagining it. At night, there’s a quiet desperation to his love making as he wrings multiple orgasms from your body leaving you worn out and sweaty under him.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, you can’t put your finger on it. You can’t explain it, it’s as if the air has thickened. At times you feel as if you’re being watched, random chills down your spine that you blame on the drafts. You thought you heard voices the other day coming from the offices on the second floor. When you checked you didn’t find anything but empty spaces.

You’re worried about Bucky, you don’t know if it’s the stress of whatever he’s doing in the training rooms or being away from his friends, his face pale, bags forming under his eyes. There is something wrong, you no longer write as you observe him as best you can determined to figure it out and fix it.

Bucky knows that you’re pulling away from him. He can sense your unease.He watches you know trying to figure out what went wrong. He can’t afford to miss the signs again, he has to be better this time.

You’re showering one morning, rinsing shampoo out of your hair when you feel a cool breeze on your back. Ignoring it you step under the water, the heat rolling down your body. Bucky watches as the bubbles glide down your back, swirling with the water down the drain.

He had been in the training room when the thoughts of you leaving flashed in his mind. He raced to the rooms, he had to be sure you were still here.

Still with him.

He’s exhausted, he has to watch you sleep, keep an eye on you throughout the day.

He has too.

Its not going to work Bucky. You have already lost her.

He backs away, taking one last look. 

He’s more distracted now, you feel that you’re in the way, he snapped at you when you tried to bring him lunch yesterday.The moment was forgotten when you had to pull his hand away from his neck.

Still, he’s never raised his voice at you. He apologized, taking you to the swing, you feed him pasta while he talked defensive tactics. Laughing when he saw your befuddled expression, you made him finish anyway happy to see him relaxed.

When he went back to his work, you strolled to the library, stopping near the door, you swear you heard footsteps behind you, they sounded too light to be Bucky’s but it’s only you and Bucky here.

The quiet moment on the porch is forgotten as Bucky becomes withdrawn that night. Even though he holds on to you, his eyes look past you as if he’s somewhere else.

The pit in your stomach grows each day until it hits you.

Cabin fever

You’ve been cooped up too long. You need a break to clear your head, fresh air, new environment. Searching on your phone, you find a farmer’s market that looks promising. You know he hates new places, so you’ll check it out first and bring him tomorrow.

You search the closet, putting on real clothes for the first time in two weeks. You head to the first floor, listening at each door until you hear him. Knocking, you’re looking through your purse for the car keys when he opens the door.

“I’m leaving you Bucky” You smile at him.

His heart twists as he chokes out “What” . His mind races as he tries to figure out what he did wrong, he’s been trying so hard for you, what did he do wrong?

“I found a farmers market, I’m going to see what they have, try something new for dinner”. You shake your purse, looking at the lipsticks, wrappers and who knows what rattling around.

You tilt your head, “And I’m not coming back Bucky”.

“Why”. Please don’t leave, I’m sorry, whatever I did. I’m sorry. I’ll be better, the words stick in his throat as it constricts, his hands clenching as he watches you. 

“Huh, oh like an hour, an hour and a half I guess”.You mutter distractedly as you push past the junk, finding the keys in the bottom.

You shake your head at the mess, reaching up to kiss him goodbye, “I’ll call you”. You turn and flounce out the door. You’re thinking of what you can make him for dinner, hoping they have his favorites at this market, he could use fresh food.

So eager to leave you Bucky. She didn’t even look back. She left you alone in your home, she’ll leave you alone here. She’s never coming back, why didn’t you stop her?

“No, she’s coming back” He counters, looking back at the room, “She always does”.

He walks to the staircase and sits, facing the door.

Two hours drag by, the loud tick of the clock taunting him.

Told you. She’s fucking someone right now. Someone better than you.

Bucky shakes his head, his hand scraping back and forth against his neck as he stares at the door. “She always comes back” he mumbles.

She made you beg. What did you wrong Bucky? Why hasn’t she called you?

Another hour passes by.

Blood trickles down the back of his neck, staining the collar of his shirt, the foyer darkens, chasing the light up the stairs as the sunsets. The light fades from his eyes as he screams into his clenched fist.

Go get her. Bring her home. Remember what it was like without her?

The door flings open, snow floating, twirling around with a gust of wind, you toss in two paper bags stuffed with vegetables and fruits, using your leg to hold the door open as you grab the last bag off the porch. Bucky stands, walking to you.

“Hey honey, ugh the weather is horrible, next time I’ll bring a coat”. Shaking your entire body, snow flinging off of you as you stomp your feet to clear off your shoes, laughing as you wipe off your arms, “ Anyway there is a huge tourist attraction and this really cool corn maze we should try out called 99 and a half acres”.

I met a man, Bucky. I fucked him Bucky. I love him.

“What”.

“Yeah, so the vendor, Frank something whatever, he’s going to help me with the seeds and he has these gardening tips so I figure why not” You ramble excitedly as you pick up a bag, placing it in his hands, “Did you know indoor gardening was a thing?. I think it will help with my writer’s block”.

I love him Bucky. I want to have his children.

“No”. Bucky stares in disbelief, his head pounding at the thought of you swollen with another man’s child.

“Well, I mean it might, if not hey pretty flowers” You shrug as you adjust the wet bags in your arms before walking to the kitchen. Bucky follows shaking his head as he tries to focus on you.

You place the bags on of the large counters when you feel Bucky press against you. The counter biting into your stomach as he paws at your chest’. “Hold on a second, honey, let me-”. You’re cut off when he spins you around, your pants roughly shoved down, the material scrapping your thighs as he pulls. Gasping as he rips your cotton panties off. He kneels down, inhaling you, relief washing through him as he only smells your sweet fragrance.

He moves up your body, taking in your hair, neck, so many smells from the market, there’s a faint hint of cologne on your wrist. Ignoring your confused spluttering as he brings your hand up to his nose. Another whiff, his mind races.

Told you, Bucky. Make her love you again or she’ll leave.

He puts you on the counter, you can feel a can digging into your back as he pulls your hips towards him. “мой” He growls before his mouth slates against yours, the kiss rough, his teeth tearing into your lips, his tongue dominating yours.

He clutches your wrists, bringing them above your head. You struggle to break away, trying to break the kiss. You bite down on his lip drawing blood as he pulls away. He slams your wrists down, making you cry as pain radiates to your fingertips. He leans down to kiss you again, “Скажи”.

Putting your wrists in one hand, he inserts two rough fingers into your dry channel. His movements become harsher, faster until you’re crying, desperately trying to move back, his grip on you keeping you anchored in place. A pain-tinged burning coursing through you as you adjust to his fingers. Closing your eyes when you feel his fingers curling until they find the spot that makes you gasp, arching into his hand. 

Working over it again and again until your sobs spill out as he rips your orgasm from you. You stare at his face, searching his eyes, not seeing your Bucky. He steps back, grimacing when you wince as he removes his fingers. He’s confused when he sees your tears, what did he do?. Why did he do that to you?

She didn't like it Bucky. She doesn't want you. You don’t want to hurt her. Its not her fault.

You turn your head wiping off your face, the slamming of the door snapping your head around.

Pulling your knees up to the chest, you silently weep. Focusing on the ticking of the clock above the stove as you do your breathing exercises until you calm down. Easing off the counter, you look at your panties and jeans, deciding to leave them. You carefully walk to the stairs, feeling numb as each step reminds of you of the ache between your legs as you rub your tender wrists.

He’s waiting at the top, jogging down when he sees you. “Sweetheart, I-I”. You look at the banister, counting the swirls carved into the wood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough”.

“Please look at me”. You glance at his face, “It won’t happen again, I don't”, He sighs, “I don’t know why I- but it won't”. His hand rubbing the back of his neck makes you cringe.

“Bucky, stop that”. You whisper.

His hand drops as he nods. “Can I pick you up”. You flinch as he sweeps you into his arms, running up the stairs, you hold yourself away from him. He takes you into the shower, holding you against him as he washes you, murmuring apologies when you cry out as when he brushes against your tender skin.

Bucky dries you off, applying your lotion, dressing you. Handling you as if you would shatter any moment. You fall asleep curled up away from him. Bucky waits until he’s sure you’re asleep before slipping out of the room. He locks the door and leaves the facility.

The next morning, you stretch, reaching out to his side of the bed, the sheets cool and untouched.. “Sweetheart, I made you breakfast”. Startled, you look around to see him standing by the bed, a tray in his hand. The smell hits you before you can see the meal. “I am sorry”. His voice laced with regret and worry, his eyes downcast.

Biting back a sigh, you observe him, eyes flitting between him and the tray. “Sit down, we have to talk”. As you push yourself against the headboard, stretching your legs out, he places the tray over you before sitting beside you.

Looking over you see the deep grooves in his neck and are unable to stop the deep exhale. When he turns to you, you close your eyes, “You know what, forget it, it’s in the past”. You grab his hand, “don’t let it happen again” You look at the tray before you, picking at the burned eggs, “And don’t let this happen again”. You force a chuckle.

He leans his head against your shoulder. After a while you turn on the T.V. You pick through the equally burnt bacon, finding small pieces to feed him. A name catches your attention, a familiar face in the upper corner of the broadcast. Beside the blond newscaster. You know that face.

“Oh my god”, you turn up the tv.

“ Last night, Frank Murphy was found dead in his home, police aren’t releasing any details.. Police are asking anyone with information to please come forward”.

“Bucky, that’s the farmer” You say, frowning when it changes to the weather, “Bucky, I met him yesterday”.

I love him Bucky.

“No”

“I know, I can’t believe it” You reply, “That’s so sad”. 

I want him back, Bucky. You pout. 

She misses him Bucky, did she miss you? Look how upset she is, how hurt. You did that to her

Bucky swings his legs off the bed, his heart throbbing in his chest, his fist clenched. He paces around the bed, muttering lowly as you stare, his lips moving faster, face reddening, tainted with a quiet rage. You move towards him, pulling back when he stops, his gaze penetrating you, eyes widening when his arm draws back.

The sharp crack of the wall splintering under his fist makes you flinch, upending the tray. You try to catch the glass of juice, jumping when the door slams shut. Bits of blackened eggs and bacon stain the comforters, the juice sloshing in the cup as your hand quivers.

Your head spinning as you hear him stomp down the hallway. You spend the rest of the day in the room, contemplating what to do as you sit in the window seat. You looking at the hole in the wall, trying to figure out what is happening here. You hate to admit it but you’re afraid to go downstairs, your fear competing with your concern for Bucky.

The snow swirling around the grounds, watching as the white flurries gently cover the green shrubs in the maze below. You fall asleep with your head against the cold glass, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Bucky crouches beside you, watching you. Your small body huddles in the seat, he traces your lips. You’ll be all alone Bucky. “She stayed here” he whispers, “she waited for me”. He tries to shake the voice from his head. 

He carries you to the bed, laying beside you until he sleeps for the first time in days. You wake up when he rolls over, his arm dragging across your belly. Slowly moving away from him, you place your feet on the floor, looking back to see if he’s moved. His breathing slow and even, his arm flung across his face. 

Putting on your fuzzy slippers, you walk towards the door, carefully opening and closing it, the small click of the lock undetectable to your ears. Running to the elevator, you get to the first floor and go to the kitchen. Crying in relief when you see your purse on the counter.

Taking out your phone, you swipe through your contacts until you find Tony’s number. Laying it on the counter as it rings, you prop your elbows up beside it, drooping your head into your hands. “Cmon, pick up, pick up”.

‘What”

“Tony, hey its Y/N”. You say, waiting as the silence stretches on the other end, you can hear the eye roll, “ I know everyone hates me, but this isn’t about me somethings wrong with Bucky”.

“What are you talking about”. He demands, you bit your tongue at his arrogant tone.

“I don’t know, but he’s been acting weird, I swear he spoke Russian the other day, I have no idea what he’s even doing in the training rooms, why has no one shown up”, your rant fizzling out when you realize that people should have been here a week ago.

“Hold on, what are you talking about, where are you?”. You can hear someone in the background, it sounds as if he’s walking.

“The new training facility”.

There’s a pregnant pause as you look at the phone

“What new facility?”.

Your stomach drops, “I-”. You pick the phone up, putting it to your ear, “ the one you sent Bucky to, for the new recruits”.

“Y/N, we don’t have a new facility”.

Your heart thumps in your chest, a dull ringing in your ears as you repeat his words. “Tony, can you track my location, I think I’m in trouble”.

“On it, we can be there in 15”.

“Thanks, Tony”.

Tony ends the call. He turns to Steve, who looks back expectantly. “It’s working, give it a few hours and then take the jet”. Tony hesitates, “Steve, I hate the Manchurian candidate more than anyone, believe me” He bleakly chuckles, “but isn’t he your friend, are you sure you want to see this through?”

Steve clenches his jaw, “There was no other way”.

**Author's Note:**

> Fairly new writer, please give feedback and criticism. I want to become a better writer so don't be afraid to be brutally honest with me. Thank you!


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